by JR Handley
After re-securing his trusty AI, Lance went to the back of the room and opened the walk-in storage locker. He spent a frantic fifteen minutes looking for the Death Pack before finding its storage box. Lance stared, trying to determine how he would carry this out without being caught, when he was startled by the appearance of one of the many cleaning Aux that populated any large compound on the planet.
Lance tried to sound official, straightening his posture and remembering his military bearing. “Who are you? The cleaning Aux isn’t due for fifteen minutes,” he said to the startled girl. It quickly became clear that the Aux in this era weren’t tolerated in the same way that they had been on Cardamine, because the stench of her groveling subservience was overwhelming.
As she stared at him, noticing how different he was from the Beta City Marines, a slight knowing look came to her.
Maybe it’s the tattoo she can see peeking out from my uniform? Lance watched as her demeanor visibly changed, as if her humanity had explosively returned. “You’re him, the one Basil told us about, aren’t you?” said the shy woman-child. “He said you were nice to him, that you fed him your lunch. I’m Ashanti, by the way.”
It was odd, almost as if knowing he had been vouched for. As he watched Ashanti’s whole demeanor change, Lance realized he had made several unknown allies with his simple act of generosity that morning. Having spent his entire life in the military, he couldn’t help but wonder if it hadn’t made him enemies as well. “Yes, I met Basil this morning. Yes, we ate lunch together. Now, since you clearly know that I don’t have orders to be here, what are you going to do?”
The gaunt young woman’s face scrunched up as she contemplated his words. Then with a clever smile she answered. “I am just an Aux. If you were to order me, I suppose I would be obligated to show you the back way out of here that we use to cart off the refuse.” No broader hint was ever given, and Lance wasn’t foolish enough to turn it down.
“Thank you, so that is an order,” he told her. “You will lead me out of the workshop through the servant’s entrance.”
Ashanti jumped at his words as it was clear she didn’t expect a thank you from him. With that, she led him out of the workshop through a rear exit, which Lance cursed himself for missing in his search through the room.
“Nzuri,” she told him in her usual subservient tone, but Lance couldn’t understand what she had just said.
Oh well, he thought, at least now I can get away with the gear and impress the colonel.
— Chapter 07 —
Headquarters, Commanding Officer, 6907th TAC RGT
Once on the surface Lance donned the Death Pack, and quickly hooked Xena into the onboard AI slot. After completing safety checks, he took a moment to look at the majesty of Kijiji before initiating the engines.
Lance felt the weight of his body pull as the jets roared to life and launched him up and away from the ground with no explosions. His eyes teared in the wind, and he blinked to clear his blurring vision. Quickly, the once far away city in the clouds became larger and more impressive.
He turned control over to Xena so that he could enjoy the view of his new home. Upon safely landing on the glassy quad just outside the 6907th TAC headquarters, Lance powered down the engine and began walking into the building. He never bothered to take off the pack, hoping it would create the impression he was going for.
He found the officers’ headquarters guarded by a Jotun whom Xena identified as Lieutenant Pavel Njalson. It seemed that Njalson was serving dual roles of gatekeeper and aide-de-camp to Colonel Marchewka.
Lance tried to hide the fact that his stomach was doing somersaults. Humans provided the rank and file of the Human Marine Corps but they were officered exclusively by Jotuns. The seven-foot-tall predators were kitted out with a shaggy hide, four arms with retractable claws that could decapitate an unsatisfactory subordinate, and a jaw packed with serrated teeth out of which could come a predatory roar that could turn the stoutest Marine heart to runny goo.
Lance came to attention before Lieutenant Njalson, and gave a sharp salute. “Sir, Sergeant Lance Scipio reporting to the Commander of the 6907th as ordered, sir,” he bellowed as loudly as he could.
The junior officer, who stood in front of him, didn’t seem impressed but merely lifted one of his six limbs and gestured for him to go into the colonel’s office. Lance knew that was all the invitation he’d get, so he quickly dropped his salute and marched in. His gait was off due to the difficulties of carrying the weight of the Death Pack, but he mustered all the dignity he could, momentarily regretting that he hadn’t decided to wear his battle armor, and walked into the office that would spell his doom or his salvation.
Colonel Marchewka was sitting at his desk, laughing quietly to himself as he watched some video on his digi-sheet of a young Cadet with a boner standing naked in a Troggie tunnel.
What kind of weird shite is he into? And could that sound actually be laughter? I have to shake out of it, get my head in the game.
Again, Lance repeated the formulaic expression which had been drilled into his head since his days in the crèche. “Sir, Sergeant Lance Scipio reporting to Colonel Marchewka as ordered, sir,” Lance bellowed, louder than he had for that pompous lieutenant, while crisply saluting. He held the salute, waiting for the colonel to acknowledge him, but Colonel Marchewka seemed to derive pleasure from making Lance wait. After a considerable pause, Lance’s salute was returned and he was able to drop his arm back to his side, having returned to a rigid attention.
The colonel stared at him for a few minutes, seeming to see into his soul, before he spoke through his voice box. “I see that you decided to make an entrance, stealing that piece of Marine Corps technology. I should have you stripped of your stripes and whipped in front of the entire regiment, but your record was impressive. I found it and you when I asked the Night Hummers to look into the disappearance of my mother, Captain Grimgerde. You were their price for services rendered and the solution as well. It seems that you will find her, according to their prophecies, and that to do so I will need you here. You will train my G-2 Class of Cadets in your antiquated combat tactics, and if you live you will follow that freshman class throughout their time as Cadets. Officially you will be the veteran sergeant for 1st Squad, Whiskey Company, but the rest of the regimental Cadets will also begin learning your historic method. I will give you some leeway, but don’t mistake that for weakness because you’re still a Marine.”
Lance was taken aback. This established Jotun officer, a colonel and combat veteran, was Captain Grimgerde’s son? Fate had truly been unkind, if he had been on ice for that long. “Sir, with all due respect, I am not sure what has changed and how my ‘old tactics’ would be of any use. I imagine technology and the situation on the battlefield has changed a lot if what I know was scrapped. Shouldn’t I–”
Colonel Marchewka cut him off, “I have told you what your standing orders are. You are to assume command of 1st Squad, Whiskey Company and train them to the standards you knew from your era. They are green Cadets, just weeks out of Novice School, with a whole lot of learning to do. 1st Squad does seem to have the reputation as the dumping ground for all the misfits and malcontents that are five hands away from being removed from the Marine Corps. All of them live or die as a team from here on out. That includes you too, Sergeant. Luckily for you, you have your responsibilities to the rest of the Cadets in the regiment to balance the sword you are walking on. I am confident you can fix it and turn it around. Just remind them that they start their training with you as Aux Candidates, and hope that it motivates some improvement. If not, they can just as easily be retired.”
Lance tried again, desperate to understand “Yes, sir, and what is the significance of my tactical knowledge? Why is it–”
Colonel Marchewka growled. It was only a warning rumble at the back of his throat, but Lance caught the way the alien curled his lip to reveal more of the fangs beneath and swallowed what he was about to say.
; “I don’t know why it is important,” said the Jotun. “The Hummers don’t give us that level of detail. Their precognition is supposed to be a key strategic asset, but instead of foretelling what will happen, they speak in riddles and half-truths, which we are then expected to unravel. I will not try to do so, I will just follow the advice I was given and honor my bargain. Enough questions, carry on.”
Lance tried one more time, acutely aware of the risk he was taking. “Sir, with all due respect, if you know about me, why not just go to the Island and get your mother? Kalino isn’t that far away, you could be there in a matter of–”
Colonel Marchewka slammed a fist into his desk and peered at Lance through inscrutable alien eyes. “You mean you didn’t come from Detroit? It was hard enough to justify that, when the general thought it was just a once in a lifetime inter-base transfer. But a base other than Detroit? The only island of any significant size, capable of housing any base that I know of on Tranquility-4 is Cardamine, and it sits empty, devoid of sentient life. Not even a Hardit or Trog base there.”
After bracing himself, sure that retribution would follow his impertinence during the conversation, Lance answered Colonel Marchewka. “Sir, I went through my training in Kalino, which sits on Cardamine Island. I don’t know why the city ceased to be. I don’t know why its very existence has been lost to time. I do know that you’ve indeed lost it, and it surely waits there to be found. Let’s take a team there to investigate.”
There was a brief pause, as Colonel Marchewka seemed to digest the information. “If you speak the truth about this Kalino, then its existence is classified so deep that even I didn’t know about it. You will not speak of it, and you will not tell your Cadets about it. You will simply train them to the standards you were taught, maybe add a bit more discipline, and that will be all. If there happens to be a training mishap down the line, and you make an emergency landing on Cardamine, well that is up to the gods, isn’t it?”
Knowing he was likely pushing his luck, Lance asked for one more favor from his commander. “Roger that, sir. Now if I might again be so bold as to ask that an Auxiliary Technician be assigned to me so we can get all the equipment issues brought up to par? When I was in the engineering labs, sir, they looked like some of their technical prowess has been lost to time as well. If you could assign me Aux Tech Basil Treloar, then we can get started today. When I was a Cadet, said technician would live in the sergeant’s quarters of the 1st Section Leader Habdisk. If he is assigned to me, it would double the speed with which I might get this transition started. Maybe speed up finding your mother? Plus, it will motivate these Cadets by giving them a daily reminder of what awaits them if they don’t straighten up.”
Colonel Marchewka was clearly displeased but was highly motivated to find his mother. “You presume much, little human, but it will be done. The orders will be in the system and he will report to you after his shift in cryo ends. I won’t waste food on this failed Marine, however, so your squad will feed him from their rations. Now, that will be all. Dismissed.”
— Chapter 08 —
City Phase Unit 1, Habdisk 612, 1st Squad Barracks
As soon as Lance was done with Colonel Marchewka, he jetted down to the ground and returned to the underground levels of the Marine base. After getting re-issued his basic kit from the stores on Level 5, he descended another level and headed for the habdisk assigned to his Cadets, grateful to see that the habdisks followed the same design he was used to from Kalino, Lance’s home that no one seemed to know existed.
The Marine Corps bases on the planet were more than places to breed and train human soldiers; they were fortresses, and the habdisks were part of their hardening against attack. Each habdisk could be sealed off against nuclear, chemical, biological and cyber assault, and could operate independently for years with its own food, water, armory, power sources and motive power. Humans were still a new species, being trialed by the White Knights for military applications within their empire. The Jotun officers said the humans were too new to have tales of their own, but they told stories of Jotun Marines who had battened down the habdisk hatches and initiated emergency cryofreeze when the upper levels of their base were nuked into glassy oblivion. Centuries later, the habdisks thawed and burrowed back to the surface, unleashing upon the planet’s conquerors thousands of Jotun Marines with revenge burning in their breasts.
Were the Marines of Kalino still asleep in their habdisks?
Lance shook his head. That was a question for the future. First, Lance had to succeed today.
He entered Habdisk 612 and quickly located 1st Squad’s barracks rooms.
What he saw inside appalled him.
The room looked like it had been ransacked by hungry cholbas who had set up their warren here. Those furry little drentlings would tunnel through anything and then pop up to the surface and attack any unwary soul traipsing around up there. He vaguely remembered one of his instructors mentioning that the cholba resembled the badgers from Earth, but bigger and meaner.
Lance scanned the room again and couldn’t help but think about how far things seemed to have fallen, that or maybe the continental Marines weren’t as tough as they’d like you to believe. Not wanting to ponder the state of things, he quickly headed into the sergeant’s room in the command section barracks. Once he opened the door, however, he was covered in an avalanche of various pieces of old gear and supplies. It seemed this room had been where the Cadets threw anything they didn’t need, and thought that by its being hidden meant they had cleaned.
This just won’t do, fumed Lance. As soon as those Cadets get back from their training mission they’re gonna be in a world of hurt. I guess the colonel wasn’t exaggerating the craptastic nature of my new command. I’ll just have to channel my inner Fontaine and right this ship, lest I end up culled like she was.
After thoroughly cleaning his quarters, Lance began placing his gear in the appropriate place and installing a few pictures of his childhood friends in the provided digital and holographic frames. The junk that had been in the sergeant’s room was tossed into the open bay portion of the barracks where the Cadets lived. He opened the storage compartment under his mattress and securely stored the extra AIs from his fallen brothers and sisters, making sure to authenticate his biometrics in the system using the code provided by Lieutenant Njalson. Before sealing the compartment, Lance spotted the chip for Dante, the AI of his childhood. He contemplated switching back, but something about that idea set off warning bells in his head, and told him to reserve judgment on Xena for a while longer. Once he was confident that he was in the network’s security system and able to utilize all of the staff and instructor functions available, he headed out of his room and secured it behind him.
Lance waited in the barracks, looking around to assess the individual lockers of his new charges, hoping beyond hope that they’d at least kept their personal areas in ship shape. He had initially assumed that tactics were all he had to teach these urchins, but then he’d been slapped in the face by reality. These barracks didn’t belong to Marines, they belonged to undisciplined children. He thought back to when he was a G-2 Cadet, which wasn’t that long ago to him, despite his veteran sergeant status. As a freshman Cadet, he had known enough to be more of a danger to himself than any potential enemies. Even then, Lance and his fellow Cadets had more discipline than this.
He stared at the timer on his Aimee, checking to see how long he had before his Cadets returned.
The Aimee was officially designated as the PE-1621 Artificial Intelligence, Individually Mounted Electronic Equipment but was often simply referred to as Aimee. This extremely rugged tablet could be worn in both combat suits and regular duty uniforms, and was capable of housing the Marine’s personal AI when worn in the smartfabric uniform, and tied into the AI when worn in conjunction with combat armor. An Aimee served as the Marine’s personal computer, mailbox, library and training aide, and featured alarm functions, a digital watch, calendar, and weather report
interface.
Lance continued watching the seconds tick away and began to think about having his own Cadets. It definitely feels odd, saying ‘my Cadets’, he thought. But if he was going to beat this rabble into shape, allowing them to earn the right to call themselves Marines, he had to channel the very person he hated as a Cadet. This time the beatings would continue until his morale improved.
Realizing that he had some time to himself, a rarity in Marine life, Lance began to tinker with his interface into Xena’s programing. Spacer Technician Aura had switched his AI in the final moments before the failed QEP debacle, but hadn’t explained why.
Lance paused. The technician’s atoms would have been recycled long ago. Not wanting to choke on the gulf of time that separated him from his old life, he retrieved a memory image of last time he’d seen the spacer technician. Her pretty little mouth had been caught in an ‘o’ of shock, because Captain Grimgerde had caught her coupling with Lance in a side room off one of the Grendel’s tech bays.
He sighed, and returned his attention to the present and the AI Aura had given him. Unlike most AIs, Xena seemed to actively resist his efforts to learn more. She seemed to treat it as a game, constantly booting him from the AI programing section, instead redirecting him to other mundane functions. Lance was so engrossed in his digital battle that he jumped when she talked to him.
What gives you the right to peek under my skirt, Marine? If you wanted to know what color panties I was wearing, you could’ve asked. And for the record, I’m not wearing any!
Lance wasn’t sure, but he could’ve sworn she even harrumphed. Could an AI even feel that kind of emotion? Where DID the line between machine and sentience lie?
